KALAMAZOO, MI -- For being one of the most successful comedians of the last two decades, Jerry Seinfeld has a knack for sounding like a moderately grumpy, technology-hating every day married man with three kids who REALLY loved Pop-Tarts.

Jerry Seinfeld started his 75-minute set at the nearly sold-out Miller Auditorium on Thursday by jogging across stage in a gray suit and blue tie. He enthusiastically greeted Kalamazoo.

"What a beautiful experience, Kalamazoo. There's no place else named 'mazoo' at the end. Even 'zoo.' Nobody has zoo in their name. I love this place, it's so unusual. And what an impressive accomplishment on your part. Look at what you've accomplished? Getting out on a Thursday. There is not one person here tonight who did not find this evening, ultimately, to be a total pain in the a--."

He then sympathized with a majority of his audience whom he said didn't really want to be there. His shoulders slumped and he rolled his eyes as he talked about what started as an idea for a fun night out turned into an anxiety-riddled inconvenience for many in attendance. He joked about the "weird" start time (7 p.m.) and how pressure filled dinner prior to the show would be if service was slow.

For lovers of "Seinfeld," moments felt like segments of the popular television program where the smallest observations morphed into a crushing commentary on modern society. At least one portion of his routine had to have appealed to everyone in the audience: From married to single; parent or dog owner; coffee drinker to energy drink slammer.

His performance picked up the pace when he touched on our liquid culture and how the industry has "created a drink for every micro-moment in life."

He blasted Gatorade commercials and pointed out the bizarre need for five hour energy drinks.

"That's a weird amount of time. Just weird. Who's working 1 to 6? What the hell does it feel like to find yourself in a deficit of five hours of energy? What kind of condition is that? I NEED FIVE HOURS OF ENERGY RIGHT NOW! If you need five hours of energy, go to bed."

It launched into his next segment on everyone always being tired and the need for sleep aids.

"You don't think there's any possible connection between all of us drinking the giant, insane coffees all day long and then finding you need a horse sedative to get your eyes closed?"

Technology also came under the scrupulous eyes of the 59-year-old comedian. He commented on everyone's obsession with smartphones, or the fully-charged, hard rectangle in your pocket.

For those who've never seen Seinfeld before, he implored surprising touches of physical comedy. To help illustrate his joke about how our energy levels change as our phone battery declines, Seinfeld went down on hands and knees and eventually laid on his back as if he were slowly dying.

This topic naturally progressed to his hatred of texting and the end of face-to-face interaction. He said, given the context, standup comedy was an outdated practice.

"I could text you this whole thing and we could get the hell out of here."

Before taking aim at Facebook and Twitter, he had a little fun at the expense of the U.S. Postal Service for relying on a business plan from the 17th Century yet being surprised it's no longer viable.

But overall each segment led very naturally to the next. With the exception of one point when he seemed to forget his train of thought, his performance seemed effortless and easy.

Near the end of his show, Seinfeld told the audience he was excited to be in Kalamazoo and asked if they could guess the reason.

An audience member yelled out "Kellogg's."

In the mind and heart of a young Jerry Seinfeld, the creation of the Pop-Tart trumps any achievement of the human race. He envisioned a room of "cereal scientists" emerging from a bunker and
holding Pop-Tarts in the air like Moses with the 10 commandments.

"When they invented the Pop-Tart, the back of my head blew off."

He described breakfast at his home and it sounded more like a form of cotton-mouthed torture dished out daily by an uncaring universe than the nutritious start of the day.

He bounced from this to food and obesity. Then, Seinfeld went into being a father and attending birthday parties that seemingly emphasize teaching children rage and senseless violence (see: pinata and pin the tail on the donkey). He took a personal stand against movie theaters that request patrons pick up after themselves.

"I'm not picking nothing up. I'm the one who threw it down there."

He closed with a priceless segment about the uncomfortable nature of public bathrooms. It peaked when he talked about accidentally meeting the terrified eyes of the innocent peering out from inside a stall that was inappropriately designed with gaps in the walls.

Seinfeld left to a standing ovation, but returned soon after for a short Q-and-A with his audience. He was asked if he was the master of his own domain, a reference to the popular "Seinfeld" episode about, well, handling your own business.

When asked who is the funniest person he knows, he quickly replied Larry David, the co-creator of "Seinfeld" and star of "Curb Your Enthusiasm."

He closed his encore by telling a story about Wayne Knight, the actor who portrayed the "Seinfeld" character Newman.

The evening was capped with the Seinfeld doing an audience-pleasing "Hello ... Newman."

Mark Schiff, described in his introduction as a long-time friend of Seinfeld's, warmed up the audience with a 15-minute set covering topics from the uncomfortable nature of a doctor's appointment to how often his mother threatened him with violence to how marriage is like the floor of the senate.